


Sense.

by AnneLaurant



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 12:02:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11509038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnneLaurant/pseuds/AnneLaurant
Summary: Uchiha Sasuke knows how to utilize his sensation, and Uzumaki Karin knows how to stir up his perception.





	Sense.

**Author's Note:**

> I actually completed this in separate sheets of yellow paper, but I lost that paper in the middle of writing this. Here's a two-year-old WIP I just revisited and finished today, because I like the concept very much. This can also be considered an exercise in describing using the five main senses.
> 
> Also all ye who dislike or hate Karin and SasuKarin, turn back. This doesn't cover any material you like.

_Sight._

At first, _it_ was uncomfortable, even somewhat creepy. _It_ wasn’t like the lonely stare of the foolish boy who’s the closest thing to a friend he’d have, but _it_ was still as lonely, or the so-fabled ‘loving’ stare of his female former teammate, but _it_ was still very much ‘romantic.’ Sometimes, when _she_ looked, it dripped with desire, a desire that he hadn’t fully understood until much later, and when he looked back, she’d turn her head and pretend to be doing something else. _Her_ stare was much, much different from everyone else’s. Somehow, her eyes always followed him, when he intended for the person herself to do such an action. But sometimes, her gaze was lonely and hurt, but understanding. No, _she_ was lonely and hurt, but understanding.

But, then again, it wasn’t that bad to be followed by this person, and then again, she complied and followed him. To her credit, in terms of aesthetic beauty, she was attractive, more like a woman than a girl. Her face wasn’t like that so-called ‘cutesy baby face’ of the certain former teammate with pink hair. It wasn’t plain like said former teammate’s best friend’s, or that girl’s from Lee’s team; it wasn’t sharp either like that of the Sand girl from the Chuunin Exams. Maybe, then again, she was 16 and so was he, and he had his many chances to look at her closely thanks to their situation.

Maybe some might say her hair was fiery. To him, it wasn’t. The red of the flame wasn’t like the red of her hair, or her eyes, for that matter. He didn’t find anything fiery about her, except her personality whenever she interacted with Suigetsu. _His_ favorite food was red, and his blessed, err, cursed irises became red, but it wasn’t like her red, at all. Her red seemingly mocks both of them – it was a reminder of the red that spilled from bodies; the red that filled their visions on the nights that changed everything in their lives; the red that they’d see more often, whether they like it or not, now that they’re grown. (Perhaps her hair wasn’t red at all in the first place; maybe it absorbed all the red from _that_ time?)

And speaking of growth, the textbooks didn’t lie about girl’s development. They met when they were younger, and she’s matured a lot, physically. She didn’t have perfect vision, but she had clear awareness of her body. He knew it from the confidence of her stride, from the way she dresses up to emphasize her hips and her legs. She didn’t really lack in the chest department, but that wasn’t the reason she covered her upper torso and her arms in public. Those certain parts of her skin was infested with bite marks from human teeth, a side-effect of her healing abilities. To some, as Suigetsu complained, the sight was disgusting. To Juugo, it was horrible, like Orochimaru and his experiments. To _him_ … well, he didn’t mind. He was the one who caused most of that, anyway, and that didn’t make her less of the kunoichi she was.

What he did mind, however, was how often his onyx irises had to fall on her figure to think of all these.

 

_Smell_.

She had perfume.

Of course, he knew about using chemicals, natural or synthesized, to make oneself more appealing, or to feel more confident. This industry boomed with the civilians, especially during festivals and gatherings, and there were supposedly two types of these chemicals, cologne and perfume. According to Suigetsu, perfume was supposedly the more purified of the two. He said he could stand cologne better, though. It must be the alcoholic content, Juugo suggested, perfume had more alcohol than cologne, and alcohol was strong. _She_ had to choose it, of course.

She collected perfume.

It was a hobby. From how _he_ understood it, it had started when she clung on to her deceased mother’s perfume. At first, she wore it to calm herself, during her first weeks or months with Orochimaru. It was a gentle scent, so gentle it somehow irked him whenever she was near. But then, she began to wear it as an accessory, and soon, it became his indication of her presence – all the so-called fragrances of perfume that was hers alone. And then, as she grew up, she’d take the opportunity to buy more, to analyze them, and to concoct them. She was not a fool to waste her talent for observation, it seemed.

She used perfume.

It wasn’t that hard to catch. Shinobi and kunoichi couldn’t use them, really, because that would mean they could be tracked easily. _She_ , though, didn’t mind that. Then again, she only whipped the small bottles out, when they were recuperating from the harsh travels. She couldn’t let the smell cling onto her for too long. That, _he_ understood. From being a bloodstained, muddy, grimy kunoichi, she’d temporarily turn into a normal civilian girl.

She wore perfume.

Sometimes it was meek, but when it wasn’t, his nose would wrinkle up. In comparison, he was satisfied with the mild soapiness and freshness that clung to his body after a nice, relaxing session at the bath. She was somehow complicated that way, but she could erase his own traces from her that way as well, especially when she went out of the current inn they stayed in. And when she left, the mix of fragrance and foulness would be left, and it registered strongly in his mind.

She _was_ perfume.

It was strong and womanly. It was passion, seduction, and sexuality. He spared little time giving thought to it – alcohol, after all, was intoxicating, and its properties extended to its smell. But, oh, somehow, they extended to their wearer, too, for he would find himself longing to smell any peculiar, strong smell in the air, whenever she was in the room.

 

_Hearing._

Her voice wasn’t exactly pleasant or unpleasant.

It became annoying when she yelled at Suigetsu. Loud, high-pitched, and angry. She was vulgar; she was demanding; she was nobody but a commander. She refused to be treated so lowly. She disdained the equally vulgar way he referred to her, and there were so many times he seemed to be making a trivial point about _him_. _He_ minded their arguments, but for some reason, he found himself siding with _her_. Suigetsu was always so bothered about it, but he never expressed any discomfort about having to shut up now that it was two on one… or at least, face-to-face, he’d never tell it. And then, her voice calmed, and she was back to herself.

It was calmer when she referred to Juugo. Normal, matter-of-fact, nothing too noticeable. Somehow, they got along just fine, even if there were times she was unsure if she should approach him. Then again, Juugo had a small problem, but nothing _he_ couldn’t solve. Juugo, in turn, was mostly even-tempered, and his voice was quite calm and normal too.

And then, when it came to _him_ …

She had so many faces, so many voices. The shaky, shy, and soft voice came out when she’d remember her past. (She was scared.) The arrogant, bossy one would be there to criticize his decisions and make him doubt. (She was worried.) The soft yet high-pitched one was when she’d cling onto him and suggest they be alone together, or something similar. (She was… she was, what was she? Womanly? Not really…?) And then, there’s this lower tone, where she was serious and simply listening to his command.

There were probably a lot others, but he’d have to coax the rest out of her. She never really asked anything of him; never minded his way of speech, never minded that he didn’t imitate her mood. In turn, so did she; she simply let her body and her emotions deal with the manner of her speech, whichever was appropriate for the matter.

Also, his ears would have to strain themselves trying to differentiate. Oh, but she never called him just for any trivial matter (except for when it’s soft and high-pitched; he never quite figured that out), so he let her call his name, over and over and over.

 

_Touch._

Their culture stated quietly that physical contact was an intimate act reserved for friends and beyond.

And yet, _he_ found himself being clung onto, so many times already.

Clinginess could be annoying, he learned from his moments with his brother. It wasn’t just physical contact. Emotional attachment could be so inconvenient; pity was only in the way of one’s plans. He didn’t like people touching him, or people attaching themselves to him, especially if he never gave them consent. He hated associating with anyone he didn’t choose for himself.

And yet, he found himself not minding _her_ , so many times already.

This team was something he formed himself; he even chose his members by himself. They followed him by their own choice, too. Fair enough; he’d resigned himself to being touched by any of them, especially during emergencies. Not _her_ , though. She liked to hook her arm with his, and caress it gently. That was… fine, _he_ thought. He grabbed her so often, for she was his personal healer, and her healing required him to do more than just… touch.

And yet, he found himself not minding such close contact, so many times already.

Mouth. Teeth. Flesh. He’d bite into her skin, sucked her chakra, and let the strong energy flow into his own body and heal him. That happened every time she healed him. If any normal civilian would catch on to the keywords of this healing process, they’d most likely doubt this was just any healing process. True. Orochimaru had to be insane enough to make it painful for _her_ , but she didn’t mind the way too intimate way they’d seem to be. None of their teammates really wondered, either, but the two males would look away, seemingly abashed by the display before them.

And yet, he found himself not minding looking like this, so many times already. For the future, too, he wouldn’t mind. If anyone was against it, they’d just have to find ways to adjust.

 

_Taste._

When he first bit into her flesh, he had miscalculated himself, and he drew blood.

Blood, though it seemed like lush tomatoes crushed into pieces and swimming in its juices, tasted like copper, like iron. It was warm, and he could understand why predators lusted after fresh, warm kills.

But, most shinobi did not have tolerance towards raw meat, and any edible prey he’d successfully hunt, he’d have to cook. Their bigger meals outside of town were mostly roasted meat, usually rabbit, deer, or fish. In small villages, they would treat themselves to properly-cooked meals.

Nothing like blood, or her salty skin, sweaty from all that training, or all that fighting.

In time, he grew accustomed to that peculiar taste. In time, he learned that that was not the only taste test he’d have of her.

When things finally settled down, he realized he could think of other things other than revenge or fighting or any shinobi-related things. So did she. Their first sane conversation, after that mess with Madara, after that mess with Naruto, after that mess with Konoha’s bigwigs, ended up rather messy, with tears flowing down her face, with her on top of him, with her seemingly brushing his lips, with him finding that the word to describe it was tangy, and with her getting up and dashing away, spouting a goodbye.

_…after all this time?_

Not when he’d had a taste of her. He hadn’t had enough.

 

_And beyond._

“Karin! Karin, wait!”

“No, Sasuke, it’s clear that—”

He isn’t so dense as the Dobe says, or as he’d like to make her think.

“Karin. I need you.”

He feels desire. He wants her. He needs her. He’s sure. He is not one to make such haphazard decisions. He feels it in his veins. His yearns for her. He still needs to give a proper apology, and he still has to repay her for all her services and all her deeds. Things will feel incomplete. He’ll never leave a job unfinished, and even if their feelings most likely don’t quite match, he still treasures her, favors her, and cares for her above all others (maybe except the Dobe, or maybe even equal to the Dobe). It will bother him, pain him, if he simply turns her away and lets her go like this.

“Come with me again.”

She turns around, tears still in her eyes, but her mouth stretching to a wide grin like her stupid cousin’s. The smell of her mother’s perfume fills his nose very gently. Her voice shakes, as she embraces him and cries.

“Always.”

It’s sweet. Sasuke hates sweetness, but this sweetness, he decides, is something he doesn’t hate.

**Author's Note:**

> Which sense was your favorite? Mine is smell.
> 
> And for anybody who asks, they probably ended up having a platonic relationship. Sometimes, they kiss (and Suigetsu and Juugo can't look), but nothing more than that, because Sasuke's ass is most likely asexual (and I'd like to think he'd rather not pass his cursed genes) and Karin would probably be scared of more intimate touching, especially that Orochimaru experimented on her skin and she'd definitely be suffering trauma from that (so she's rather thankful that she was made a healer for someone like Sasuke). Suigetsu and Juugo are so thankful.  
> ...well, okay, maybe they'd have kids through adoption. All of them would have kids through adoption, and they'd all be co-parents to each other's adopted kids.


End file.
